Once they were inside their private arena, he refastened the rope to its pole because he wanted no one intruding, even as he was aware of people wandering over out of curiosity.
“What’s happening here, Lord Wyeth?” a gentleman asked.
“Miss Garrison has been granted permission to explore the inner workings of a roulette wheel.”
“You don’t say. I’ve always wondered...” His voice trailed off as he shuffled closer to the rope. A few others were gathering around.
“Fortunate for you then, Miss Garrison always satisfies her curiosity.” If he hadn’t assisted her with this endeavor, he was relatively certain she’d have eventually found a way to get to the insides of the device.
“I suppose you asked for instructions regarding how to take it apart,” she said, so focused on the mechanism that he doubted she was aware they had an audience.
“I did. Would you like a clue?”
“No, I... I think the key is probably the spindle.”
As a gentleman he’d felt it was only polite to offer her the quick solution, but he’d suspected she’d want to figure it out for herself. It was exhilarating and a bit unsettling to realize he knew her so well. “I believe they call it a turret.”
She canted her head to the side. “Yes, I can see how it resembles one.”
She wrapped her hands around the slender, protruding part of the wheel, and tried to turn it. But the thing didn’t budge.
“Might be easier without your gloves. Allow me to remove them for you.” He watched the delicate muscles at her throat work as she swallowed.
“I can do it.” She whipped them off and shoved them into her reticule. He wondered if she’d known that he would have taken his time, would have made it a sensual experience for them both.
Unfortunately, the absence of gloves didn’t help at all in getting the turret to budge. He moved his hands until they were hovering so near to hers that he could sense their warmth. “May I assist?” he asked.
“It would be rather like losing, letting the machine win, if I can’t do it myself.”
“There’s no shame in having a partner, Miss Garrison.You must understand that or you wouldn’t be seeking investors.”
She nodded, although he couldn’t help but believe that she felt as though she was falling. “Yes, of course, I welcome your assistance.”
Half covering her hands, tightening his hold on the spindle, he suspected she’d done most of her exploring of gadgetry alone, except for the moments when her father was with her. But he was gone now, and Rook wondered with whom she might now share the discoveries. Certainly not her mother and probably not her brother.
It would be rather like reading a book and then finding no one else who had read it, so he had no one with whom to discuss what he’d liked and what he hadn’t. The Chessmen tended to share the same reading tastes, so it wasn’t unusual for them to get into spirited debates regarding a story and that prolonged their reading gratification.
But her interests were more isolated, and he found himself resenting anyone who discouraged her enjoyment of them or failed to recognize their value—like Falstone, for instance. Daft man.
He could feel her slender hands beneath his, the softness of them. The silkiness of them, and he recalled the pleasure of her fingers slipping beneath his shirt in the garden, exploring him, curious about him, discovering him.
Now working together, they caused the turret, a fancy screw to be honest, to finally budge and begin to turn. He immediately pulled his hands away, giving her the triumph of finally disconnecting it. She set it aside and went to work removing the parts associatedwith the turret until the wheel head with its numbered pockets was ready for extracting.
Clasping her hands tightly, she turned her attention to him. “Shall we do it together?”
He didn’t think he’d have felt greater gratification if she’d said, “Shall we go romp about in your bed?”
Slowly he shook his head. “Enjoy your victory, Miss Garrison.”
Carefully she lifted out the wheel head and clutched it to her chest as she looked down into what she’d uncovered. “It’s as I surmised,” she said quietly, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “It’s only a bowl with a top and a decorative screw holding it all in place.”
“I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”
She looked up at him, earnestness mirrored in her lovely blue eyes. “Don’t be. The simplest of machines can provide inspiration for something more complicated. No discovery is a waste. Besides, with a few adjustments, I think it could be modified so the croupier could affect where the ball lands, increasing the odds of winning for the house.”
He laughed. “Why, Miss Garrison, you’re not suggesting that a gaming hell cheat, surely?”
“I’m advising that one should be aware that it very easily could.”
